Destined
by MizJoely
Summary: Star Trek: Into Darkness/Sherlock Soulmates AU. The name that appeared on Molly's forearm on her 12th birthday belonged to a man long dead. The name that appeared on Khan's forearm, although he didn't know it, belonged to a woman not yet born. Fate, no matter how unfair they both regarded her, knew what she was doing and would find a way to bring these two souls together.
1. A Quarrel With Fate

_**Tumblr prompt from bademorte: **__Okay really bizarre prompt. Blame exhaustion on this. Molly is Captain Kirk's cousin, but it doesn't become well known, until she starts talking with him in front of the Bones, Spock, and the holding cell with You know Who in It. Whatever rating you think you can work with this mental goo that entered my head._

_A/N: Here is part 1. Part 2 and possibly Part 3 to follow. This will be my very first T rated Khanolly story because to me the idea of soulmates is rather fluffy._

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**Earth – Early 24****th**** Century (London, England)**

As happened with every person born on Earth, Molly Hooper's forearm bore the name of her soulmate in elegant black script.

Unlike everyone else, she refused to share that name, kept it hidden away from public view. A soul name could be disguised with makeup or covered by a tattoo, as people sometimes did when they left Earth or fell in love with someone from another world. Molly had an elaborate swirl of roses banded in ivy covering hers as soon as she was old enough to do so legally. There was no government requirement to register a soul name, as there had been during less enlightened times, and anyone catching a glimpse of her forearm had the decency to comment only that the tattoo was striking, in spite of the very prominent thorns she insisted the tattoo artist include.

The tattoo only covered the name, of course; it didn't obliterate it, and eventually, if the ink were not renewed, the name would gradually bleed through, darker than before. Molly resolved never to allow that to happen. She was sixteen when she got the tattoo, four years after the soul name had appeared.

That day, her twelfth birthday, she'd been so excited, could hardly sleep the night before for pondering the moment the name would appear. She'd been alone in her room, per family tradition and her own choice, when the curling black script revealed itself – a name, then another, and finally, oddly, a third. She read the name aloud, puzzled and intrigued; generally it was only a single name, sometimes two in tandem, but rarely three – and never a last name as she knew 'Singh' to be. So she'd rushed over to her computer and entered the name into the voluntary soulmate database, only to come up with nothing.

Thinking that perhaps he'd simply not registered (not everyone did, of course, although she certainly intended to!), she'd widened her search.

The only hit she got couldn't possibly be right; frowning, she'd entered the name manually this time rather than reading it aloud for the voice interface to possibly misinterpret, careful to make sure the spelling was correct, the spacing, everything.

The same name came back to her. The same, impossible name.

She read the biography attached to the name with a sense of increasing horror, then called up a visual representation. The man was fascinating, compellingly handsome…and an adult.

No, that was wrong. Her soulmate shouldn't already be a grown man, certainly not on with cold, blue-green eyes and snarl of rage that sent a shiver down her spine and put ice in her heart.

As she read on, that ice grew until it seemed to engulf her entire form. With a small cry, Molly backed away from the computer screen and huddled on her bed, curled around herself and shaking.

That was how her parents discovered her, when they decided she was taking far too long; their bright, friendly daughter wasn't the kind to keep anything from them, certainly not on so momentous an occasion. When they saw her, their eager smiles vanished. Concerned, Henry and Karen Hooper had hurried to her side, and Molly had shown them her arm, then pointed to the computer monitor.

She hadn't known who Khan Noonian Singh was before that day, but she certainly knew who he was afterwards.

Her soulmate, it would appear, was a three-hundred-years dead mass murderer who'd helped precipitate the Third World War that had nearly destroyed Earth.

From that day forward, Molly Hooper failed to regard fate as anything other than a cruel prankster. She never again wore short sleeves, pursued very few romantic relationships, and eventually determined to leave Earth altogether and seek her future – and perhaps an alien or at least non-Earthborn lover.

With that goal in mind, she contacted her cousin Jimmy in America, who had recently joined Starfleet. Upon his recommendation, she applied to and was accepted by the Academy. Six years later, at the age of twenty-four, she'd graduated from their biochemistry program and – oh, disappointment! – been assigned to a position not only on Earth, but in London. The very city where she'd been born and raised. So much for exploring the galaxy and possibly meeting a not-dead man to give her heart to.

At least the assignment was an exciting one, involving research into cryogenics, a long-disused science but one that apparently had been discovered to have some useful applications when stasis wasn't feasible. So the girl who wished desperately to leave her home planet behind found herself staying right where she was, shaking her head at the way things worked out but determined to make the best of it.

She might have turned her back on the concept of fate, but fate, as it turned out, had not yet finished with Ensign Molly Hooper.

**Earth – Late 21****st**** Century (North Asian Protectorate)**

He'd searched for her, of course, the woman named 'Molly' whose name had appeared on his arm on his twelfth birthday. None of his fellow Augments bore that name; nor did any of the daughters of the geneticists who were the closest things to parents any of them had.

Those same geneticists had been puzzled and disturbed to find that their supposedly superior breed of human still displayed the inexplicable Soul Name that ordinary humans did; they'd sought to breed such unscientific nonsense out of the improved version of humanity, rejecting the concept of a conscious Fate in spite of thousands of years of evidence to the contrary. Still, there they were; one hundred twelve-year-olds who'd been 'born' on the same day, each now with the name of another person emblazoned in unremovable black pigment on their right forearms.

Including the one they considered – rightly so – their masterpiece, Khan Noonian Singh.

Who search in vain for a woman with his own name on her arm. And then the wars had started, wars blamed on the Augments who had seized control of so many portions of the world in an ultimately fruitless quest to bring order to the seething, hate-filled masses with their petty tyrannies and numerous, ridiculous grievances against one another. The irony, of course, was that the Augments rise to power had given those same uncooperative, stubborn groups a common foe to hate.

And so they'd fled Earth, the seventy-three who survived the purges and assassination attempts, Khan as their leader vowing to find them a world where they could live far from the prejudice, hatred and foolishness of ordinary humans. They'd slept for three hundred years in their frozen cryotubes, their sleeper ship carrying them into uncharted space, only to be plucked from their journey by the desperate visions of yet another madman who viewed war as the only path to peace.

**oOo**

'John Harrison' scowled as he examined the latest test results from the pulsar cannon he was designing for Marcus' new dreadnaught-class starship. Although there was little variation between this set of results and the previous sets, it still wasn't nearly good enough to satisfy him.

"Run them again," he ordered the Starfleet lackeys assigned to him, lip curling contemptuously as they scurried to obey him. He was used to ruling an entire continent; how had he been reduced to this, little more than a lackey himself, held firmly under the thumb of a man he despised and whose head he would gladly crush?

Then he thought of his crew, his family, kept from him by that same man, hidden away, and his anger and contempt threatened once again to turn to despair. He reined in his emotions with practiced ease, although not without feeling some bitterness at how good he'd become at hiding how he felt. Concealing everything real about himself except for his unwavering belief in his own superiority, which he felt no need to hide and couldn't if he attempted to do so for another three hundred years.

One of his aides, a young woman whose name he hadn't bothered to learn, hurried up to him with a staff update from Marcus. Scowling, Khan took the data PADD from the nervous young blonde and glanced over it, barely even registering the names of the four new personnel that had been added to his current project. "Fine," he said curtly, using his thumbprint to indicate his acceptance, then promptly forgot about them as yet another technological crisis demanded his attention.

Six months later he was on the run as a wanted terrorist; he beamed himself to the Klingon homeworld in order to escape the net that was closing around him, and finally began the journey that would end with him finding his soulmate.


	2. First Contact

**The USS **_**Enterprise**_

"Listen, Molls, I just don't think…"

Molly glared at her cousin. "Don't call me that, _Jimmy_," she snapped, emphasizing his name to make her point. "On board this ship I'm Ensign Hooper, at least while we're on duty which, last I looked, we both were. And you're the captain, not just my cousin here!"

She couldn't believe she was scolding her commanding officer like this – rather undermining her own argument against his unprofessional behavior at the same time – but really, Jimmy had driven her to it. As soon as he'd seen her name on the transfer roster he'd gone ballistic; they were chasing after a dangerous terrorist, after all. A man who'd blown up a building in London, killing dozens of people, and then attacked a meeting of Starfleet captains and their first officers, killing and wounding several others in the process. Including Jimmy's good friend and the former captain of the _Enterprise_, Admiral Christopher Pike.

Now they were racing for Klingon space, and Jimmy had belatedly read over the duty roster, more than a little perturbed to find that his cousin had transferred aboard when he'd been too distracted – and overwrought – to notice.

"I'm not taking a shuttle and abandoning ship," Molly said when he demanded that she do that very thing. She lifted her chin and gave him her most stubborn look…and Molly Hooper was nothing if not stubborn. Jimmy had tried many times to coax her into showing him her soul name, even going so far as to bare his own forearm when they were teens and showing her the name he'd been wearing since his own twelfth birthday. It read 'Carol' and Molly sincerely hoped he'd find that woman one day. Just as she now very sincerely hoped that he'd stop being such a berk about her presence on his ship.

"Molly, we're going into a very dangerous situation," Jimmy growled at her. The two of them were in Sickbay, having temporarily taken over Dr. McCoy's office while the CMO was in one of the labs messing about with his beloved tribbles (which he was very careful not to overfeed).

Molly huffed and rolled her eyes, but at the same time she gave her cousin an understanding look. "I know that, Jimmy," she said softly, reaching out to squeeze his arm in a comforting gesture. "But I didn't sign up with Starfleet because I expected to be kept safe from danger. This is part of the job, and you're just going to have to get used to me being here, at least until this mission is over. But if you think for one minute that I'll let you torpedo my career just because you still think I'm ten years old and afraid of spiders…"

"You are still afraid of spiders, Molls," he scoffed, but his expression had softened and she knew she was winning. That his sense of fairness was winning out over his impulse to shield her from the harsh realities of life. And one of those harsh realities was one she always met unflinchingly – life wasn't always fair, and death was a part of it. She'd learned that when her father had died of a rare form of cancer, and her mother had been killed in a freak transporter accident a year later. "Fine," he sighed, reading the resolve on her face. "I won't treat you like my kid cousin while you're on board my ship and on duty. I won't take a phaser set on stun to you, stuff you into a shuttle and shoot you back toward Earth, either," he added with a hint of his usual devil-may-care grin. "But if anything happens to you…except for my mom and Sammy, you're the only family I've got left."

She tiptoed up and kissed him on the cheek. "I know," she said softly. Then she stepped back, deliberately stiffening her posture and standing at parade rest. "But on board the Enterprise, I'm Ensign Molly Hooper, biochemist on the medical staff under Dr. Leonard McCoy, and you, sir, are my commanding officer. So, Captain Kirk," she added formally, "if this discussion is over, I request permission to return to my duties."

"Granted," he replied, stepping aside and watching as she strode out of McCoy's office.

Molly was never sure, after, how she'd ended up joining Jimmy in the ship's seldom-used brig after he, Commander Spock and Lt. Uhura had returned from their visit to the Klingon homeworld with John Harrison in tow; had she volunteered or had Dr. McCoy asked her to take his place? It was all a blur, especially considering what had happened when she hurried into the room, focused on not dropping the tricorder and medical kit she was carrying as she stumbled over something on the floor.

Jimmy had caught her arm, she remembered that, exclaiming, "Molly! Be careful!"

And then that voice…the prisoner spoke, his voice a cultured British drawl as he said, "Molly? Now? Here?" And then he'd thrown back his head and laughed, while Molly and Jimmy both turned confused eyes on him…and then she had dropped everything she'd been holding, right there on the floor, and clutched Jimmy's arms as the world tilted beneath her feet, the darkness threatening to overwhelm her.

She'd not seen any of the vids showing the image of John Harrison; she'd been deep in a research project in the biochem lab at her previous posting on Earth, hearing only vague rumors that seemed to have nothing to do with her. Then she'd received her transfer notice, and in her rush to board the _Enterprise_ and make sure her research would be overseen properly in her absence, she'd still managed not to see the face of the Federation's current Most Wanted.

Until now. Right now, right here, in the _Enterprise_ brig. A face she'd seen once before, when she was twelve years old and raging at the Universe and Fate for inscribing the name of a dead man on her forearm. Like a woman in a trance, she eased herself out of Jimmy's grasp, patting his hand distractedly as he demanded to know what was wrong. She vaguely heard him snapping out an order for someone to call Dr. McCoy, but ignored him, his words fading into insignificance, ultimately unheard over the pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. Slowly, carefully, she approached the plex-glass barrier between her and the prisoner, who had stopped laughing and now faced her with a bitter smile on his lips.

She stopped directly in front of him and met his gaze, brown eyes staring into sea-green liberally flecked with blue and the tiniest hints of amber. She shoved her sleeve up, knowing before she'd even looked that the tattoo she'd had so painstakingly applied to her forearm would have faded almost to nothing as she and her soulmate met for the first time.

John – or rather, Khan – echoed her gesture, his smile never leaving his lips as he, too rolled up his sleeve. There, in elegant cursive so similar in style to the name on her own arm, was the name 'Molly'. He showed it to her, lifting it up to show to someone behind her – Jimmy, probably – even as Molly raised her own arm and rested it on the plex-glass for Khan to read.

"Say it," he said, his voice hoarse and the bitter smile vanished from his lips as if it had never been. He stared at her intently, their gazes locked as he took a single step forward and then stood in front of her, unmoving, as he waited for her to do as he'd asked…no, as he'd demanded.

Molly licked her lips, coughed, swallowed, then finally spoke. "Khan," she said. "Khan Noonien Singh."

Ridiculously enough, as soon as she'd spoken, everything went black.

For the second time in her life, Molly Hooper fainted.


	3. What's In A Name

_A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading, reviewing, following and just generally being awesome about this story. And a shout out to thestormweaver for helping me with some technical issues in this chapter!_

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She woke up back in Sickbay, feeling woozy and wondering what had happened. Then it all came rushing back; she made a strangled cry of mingled anger and despair and curled up on herself, not caring that she wasn't comporting herself as a Starfleet officer or a scientist or even much like a grown woman, for that matter. All she wanted to was for this day to have never happened, for her to have listened to Jimmy and just abandoned ship before they ever left Federation space…for the name on her arm to be just that, a name with no living man attached to it.

As soon as it was clear she was awake she'd felt a presence at her side, solid and comforting, and knew it was Dr. McCoy rather than Jimmy who was resting his hand on her shoulder and not trying to stop her sobs. Eventually, of course, they stopped themselves; she reluctantly pulled her arms from around her knees and slowly, wincingly straightened herself out and made to sit up.

"Not just yet, Molly," Dr. McCoy admonished her. "Take it easy. You've had quite a shock, and although your body's gonna be just fine, we both know that's not the part that's givin' you a hard time at the moment."

She nodded and relaxed back against the pillow as best she could. "Sorry," she apologized automatically (and knowing she didn't need to didn't stop the reflexive words from passing through her lips). "I haven't fainted since…well, since my mother died, actually." Her left hand automatically cradled her right arm, and she shoved the sleeve of her uniform up to her elbow and she studied the name that blazed so clearly once again on her pale flesh. She traced the bold black script with her fingertips, watching as the last remnants of the tattoo – the thorns, of course the thorns would fade last – vanish into her skin as if the ink had never been applied.

"First time I've ever seen that in person," McCoy commented softly from his perch on the edge of her biobed. "Heard of it, of course, seen the one that got caught on video about a hundred years back, but never thought I'd see it in real time." He held his hand out and cocked an enquiring eyebrow; Molly responded by holding her arm out and nodding her permission for him to examine it.

As McCoy's gentle hands touched her arm, Molly shivered, although not in reaction to his touch. She appreciated what her immediate superior was doing for her; he wasn't just checking out her arm, he was giving her more time to compose herself, to bring herself under control for the interrogation she was about to undergo.

Because Jimmy – Captain Kirk – might be her cousin, but he was going to have some hard questions for Molly regarding the name on her forearm. The one Dr. McCoy was currently scanning, no doubt looking for any signs that the soul name exhibited differences from the ones that appeared on most people's forearms. She told him the history, how nothing had been different except that she saw three names; how she'd researched the name and felt that Fate was playing a cruel trick on her, everything she'd felt and done involving the soul name so fresh and clear in her mind it could have just happened yesterday instead of twenty years ago.

Jimmy and Commander Spock appeared a few minutes later, and the real questioning began. Only after she'd agreed to allow the half-Vulcan First Officer to conduct a Mind Meld did it end, although of course Jimmy objected. Strenuously. "It's the only way I can prove for certain that I haven't been colluding with Khan," Molly argued. "My God, Jimmy, we worked in the same building for almost a year! How could anyone believe I never saw him before today, or that this – " she yanked up her sleeve to show the name to him in all its newly-revealed glory, " – isn't evidence that we know one another? He's my soul mate, God help me, and the only way I'll ever be able to…to figure out what that means is if Commander Spock can clear me, unequivocally, of any prior knowledge of his actions!"

Spock had raised an eyebrow at her use of the captain's first name in a diminutive form, but Molly assumed he already knew of their relationship to one another and ignored what amounted to the Vulcan equivalent of a startled gasp. Dr. McCoy, on the other hand, held nothing back, ready to start an entirely different interrogation as to when she'd become so familiar with the captain that she could use what he saw as an endearment with him in front of others. "Short version," Molly said, verbally cutting across her superior for the first time ever, "he's my cousin. Now." She turned back to Commander Spock. "Mind meld. Shall we begin?"

**oOo**

Once again left alone in his cell but for the guards on duty, Khan chuckled at the irony of the situation he currently faced. He and Molly – his Molly, his one and only soul mate – had been born three hundred years apart yet had still managed to find one another. If that didn't argue for an intelligence behind Fate, then nothing did. Not only that, but the two of them had actually worked in the same building on Earth. He'd even signed his approval for her transfer to the medical section of his division; Dr. M. Hooper. He had perfect recall, and seeing her in the flesh had triggered the memory of that day, one of his last spent entirely under Marcus' dictatorial thumb. Dr. M. Hooper hadn't caught his attention, but then, neither had any of the other three names that had accompanied hers on the data PADD.

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with his plans to spirit his crew out from under the Admiral's nose, he might have paid closer attention to those four names. If he'd bothered to seek them out, to meet them as was purportedly one of his duties as a 'Team Supervisor', how much damage might have been avoided? How many lives might not have been lost?

No. Khan had never been a man who dwelled on regrets and might-have-beens, and he wasn't about to start now.

He contemplated the name on his forearm as he patiently sat on the bench set against the side wall of the holding cell. He hadn't bothered to roll his sleeve back down after Dr. Hooper had fainted, and his arm still bore some impressive red marks from where he'd pounded on the transparent aluminum fronting his cell. He'd bellowed out Molly's name and demanded that Kirk or one of his Starfleet lackeys provide medical assistance for her immediately, and hadn't been able to calm himself until Dr. McCoy burst through the doors and reassured him – well, Kirk, primarily – that she was going to be fine. Khan had glowered as Kirk lifted her petite form into his arms and strode out of the brig without sparing so much as a single glance back toward his prisoner, which suited said prisoner just fine.

Now, however, he was growing impatient, although he knew he showed no outward signs of it. It had been a half an hour since Dr. Hooper had been removed from his presence, and the only reassurance he had that she had not died from an aneurism or something along those lines was the fact that her name still graced his forearm. If anything, the black letters had grown sharper, bolder, all signs that she was, indeed, his soul mate.

He knew the tattoo she'd used to cover his name – he was rather impressed that she'd made sure to have thorns added to the otherwise banal pattern of roses and ivy – would have begun to fade at a faster rate now that their eyes had met and whatever mysterious biochemical or metaphysical communication that took place at such times had passed between their minds and bodies. He'd always thought it was an unnecessarily romantic notion to say that their souls had connected at that moment, but now he found himself rethinking that opinion.

In fact, he found himself rethinking quite a few of his opinions regarding soul mates, soul names and the existence of Fate as anything other than a blind manifestation of the collective human subconscious. He'd resigned himself to never meeting his soul mate once he and his fellow Augments had been enclosed in their cryotubes, had carefully repressed his jealousy when the rest of them paired off with one another or with the exceptional humans who'd loved them instead of feared them as the pitiful masses who seemed hell-bent on self-destruction had.

For the first time since reawakening and finding himself in the 24th century, Khan cautiously began to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, his bitterness and anger toward both Fate and Starfleet might not finally be allowed to lapse.


	4. Will A Kiss Be Thy Undoing?

_A/N: A short one, folks, but it needed to end where it does. :) Thanks as always for following, reading and especially for reviewing! Only one or two chapters left, and then there will be a stand-alone smutty one shot. :)_

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Once again left alone in his cell but for the guards on duty, Khan chuckled at the irony of the situation he currently faced. He and Molly – his Molly, his one and only soul mate – had been born three hundred years apart yet had still managed to find one another. If that didn't argue for an intelligence behind Fate, then nothing did. Not only that, but the two of them had actually worked in the same building on Earth. He'd even signed his approval for her transfer to the medical section of his division; Dr. M. Hooper. He had perfect recall, and seeing her in the flesh had triggered the memory of that day, one of his last spent entirely under Marcus' dictatorial thumb. Dr. M. Hooper hadn't caught his attention, but then, neither had any of the other three names that had accompanied hers on the data PADD.

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with his plans to spirit his crew out from under the Admiral's nose, he might have paid closer attention to those four names. If he'd bothered to seek them out, to meet them as was purportedly one of his duties as a 'Team Supervisor', how much damage might have been avoided? How many lives might not have been lost?

No. Khan had never been a man who dwelled on regrets and might-have-been's, and he wasn't about to start now.

He contemplated the name on his forearm as he patiently sat on the bench set against the side wall of the holding cell. He hadn't bothered to roll his sleeve back down after Dr. Hooper had fainted, and his arm still bore some impressive red marks from where he'd pounded on the transparent aluminum fronting his cell. He'd bellowed out Molly's name and demanded that Kirk or one of his Starfleet lackeys provide medical assistance for her immediately, and hadn't been able to calm himself until Dr. McCoy burst through the doors and reassured him – well, Kirk, primarily – that she was going to be fine. Khan had glowered as Kirk lifted her petite form into his arms and strode out of the brig without sparing so much as a single glance back toward his prisoner, which suited said prisoner just fine.

Now, however, he was growing impatient, although he knew he showed no outward signs of it. It had been a half an hour since Dr. Hooper had been removed from his presence, and the only reassurance he had that she had not died from an aneurism or something along those lines was the fact that her name still graced his forearm. If anything, the black letters had grown sharper, bolder, all signs that she was, indeed, his soul mate.

He knew the tattoo she'd used to cover his name – he was rather impressed that she'd made sure to have thorns added to the otherwise banal pattern of roses and ivy – would have begun to fade at a faster rate now that their eyes had met and whatever mysterious biochemical or metaphysical communication that took place at such times had passed between their minds and bodies. He'd always thought it was an unnecessarily romantic notion to say that their souls had connected at that moment, but now he found himself rethinking that opinion.

In fact, he found himself rethinking quite a few of his opinions regarding soul mates, soul names and the existence of Fate as anything other than a blind manifestation of the collective human subconscious. He'd resigned himself to never meeting his soul mate once he and his fellow Augments had been enclosed in their cryotubes, had carefully repressed his jealousy when the rest of them paired off with one another or with the exceptional humans who'd loved them instead of feared them as the pitiful masses who seemed hell-bent on self-destruction had.

For the first time since reawakening and finding himself in the 24th century, Khan cautiously began to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, his bitterness and anger toward both Fate and Starfleet might not finally be allowed to lapse.

**oOo**

It was no surprise when Commander Spock brought Molly to see him; it was a surprise, however, when she was allowed to join him in the cell, rather than being forced to communicate through the transparent aluminum wall separating them. It was also a surprise when Commander Spock turned and left the brig, leaving Khan and Molly alone except for a single security guard stationed near the door. Interesting.

He was seated on one of the two bench/sleeping platforms the cell boasted, and Molly took the one opposite his. "There's no point to it, is there?" she said wryly as she folded her hands demurely on her lap. He admired her aplomb as well as the way she looked, which was, quite frankly, good enough to eat even with her eyes rimmed in red and her knuckles white with tension. "Keeping us apart, I mean," she explained, although Khan already knew what she was talking about. "I mean, you can't hurt me or it would be like hurting yourself. Unless you don't care about hurting yourself, of course, but I don't think even someone with your abilities could avoid feeling that sort of pain. Well, historically, of course, from the few records available from that time, we know that other Augments who had soul mates reacted the same as normal humans…I mean regular humans…damn, sorry! I'm not actually trying to insult you, you do understand that, don't you?" And she gazed earnestly at him.

He found her rambling, fumbling attempts at something approaching 'normal' conversation rather endearing. But all he did was offer her a grave nod in response to her final question, his hands resting lightly on his knees although all he wanted to do was pull her onto his lap for a long overdue snog.

Now, of course, was not the time for such, even though the newly-created bond between them was strong enough to cloud his ability to reason. He could see it in her eyes, that she was fighting the same battle, and bit back a quiet smile of exultation. Even though she must have researched his name when it appeared on her arm, possibly even been traumatized by the cruel trick fate appeared to have played on her, she was still willing to join him. To sit with him, inside his cell, and converse with him. He wondered how strenuously she'd had to argue for this opportunity, to claim the right that all soul mates had no matter their circumstances; even a death-row inmate in the tumultuous 20th and 21st centuries had the right to see their soul mate unfettered. Apparently some things still retained their importance even three centuries later.

"Tell me what you know of me," he said when she remained silent, as if uncertain how to speak to him. "But tell me of yourself, first, if you will," he added, leaning forward slightly in order to better meet her eyes with his. "Then I'll answer any questions you have to ask of me."

"I want to. I really do," Molly replied, brown eyes serious. She tucked a loose strand of hair away from her face, and Khan had to resist the urge to do it for her. "I have a lot of questions. But…"

"But the good Captain isn't interested in letting us get to know one another better; he's interested in finding out what he can about my actions back on Earth," Khan concluded bitterly, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. How boringly predictable. "And he's interested in knowing why I surrendered when I clearly had the upper hand. And what the photon torpedoes have to do with it. And he thought I would respond better to my soul mate than I would to him."

Molly nodded, folding her hands in her lap, although she was twining them together nervously. Khan rose abruptly to his feet and crossed the small distance between them. "I'll tell him everything he wants to know," he said as he looked down at her. Her expression was alarmed, but she gestured toward the security guard, who had jumped to his feet and now stood directly in front of them, and the man reluctantly backed off, although his hand remained on his phaser. "In exchange for one thing."

"What's that?" Molly asked, although Khan knew she already suspected the answer he was about to give her.

"A kiss."

He knew what he was asking for wasn't some mere token; a first kiss between soul mates could be a cataclysmic thing. They were already bound together by the names on their forearms and by the nameless Fate that had placed those names there; a kiss could precipitate a deeper bond, on a much more profound level.

A kiss could give them access to one another's thoughts and memories, acting much the way a Vulcan mind meld did. Or it could do nothing more than open an emotional portal of sorts between the two of them, allowing them know when the other as angry or injured, elated or terrified, or even merely content.

It was a risk, true, but one he was willing to take; the only question was, did Molly feel the same?

He received his answer within seconds, as she, too rose to her feet, closing the small distance left between them and glancing at the guard, who looked decidedly twitchy. "Call Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk," Molly ordered him. Then, before the guard could object or make any other move, she lifted herself up on her toes, reached out to grasp Khan's head, and pulled him down for a soft kiss.


	5. A Destiny Revealed

_A/N: I'll be playing a bit fast and loose with the STID timeline here for this AU. And there will be at least one, possibly two more chapters after this. And as I mentioned last time, I will be writing a smutty one-shot follow up, title TBD. Thank you as always for your lovely reviews and for reading and following and favoriting this story!_

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_Pain_. That was Molly's first impression as her mind touched that of her soul mate. There was so much pain, so much fury and guilt, love and passion hidden beneath the deceptively cold façade that Khan presented to the world that it wrung a strangled cry from her lips, still pressed against his. His mouth had opened beneath hers, just as his mind had opened to her, and the reasons behind so much of his actions, past and present, opened themselves up for her examination. His love for his crew, his anguish at being led to believe they'd been killed, his thirst for vengeance against the one who'd orchestrated their murders, all of it became clear.

He was holding nothing back; not that one had a great deal of control over the information imparted during a soul kiss, but there was some. There was no sense of anything he didn't want her know, to keep secret from her, and Molly found herself responding in kind; her own, instinctive attempts to shield him from what she perceived as her many flaws ceased and she felt a freedom in opening herself up to him, no barriers between them, unlike the mind meld she'd shared with Commander Spock.

Oh, a surge of anger, but not directed at her, solely on her behalf; anger at Commander Spock for having put her through such an invasive procedure with no claim to her soul to justify it. She sent soothing thoughts toward Khan, gently reminding him that she'd volunteered, that she'd wanted it clear from the outset that she hadn't betrayed the Federation or Starfleet because of their bond.

_No one should understand you so well as myself._ That disgruntled thought came clear and swift as an arrow through the swirl of emotions the two of them were sharing, and Molly's mental laughter translated to the physical, breaking the kiss and ending the moment in which they'd both been caught up.

"Molly? Are you all right?"

She turned and nodded at her cousin, appreciating the concern in his voice but knowing, soul-deep and with unshakable surety, that there was no need for it. "Fine," she replied, lips curving in a smile. One hand moved down from where it was resting on Khan's chest and gripped his fingers. He squeezed them lightly, moved his arm from around her shoulders to pull her snugly to his side as she continued, "Anything he tells you will be the truth, Ji-Captain," she corrected herself, embarrassed at her almost-faux pas. Hadn't she just been admonishing her cousin about treating her as a member of his crew when they were on duty?

He'd moved from looking anxiously at her to giving Khan the once-over, his eyes gone colder, and Molly knew it was on her behalf. But all her doubts about her soul mate had been appeased by that marvelous glimpse into his mind and heart, and she knew that he felt the same way about her that she now did about him; that their names on one another's arms weren't burdens or the laughter of cruel fate, but the signs of a glorious destiny. A pact between them, like one few others had ever shared or would ever be privy to.

She knew the road would be a difficult one, but with Khan at her side – and with him by hers – she knew it wouldn't be impossible.

**oOo**

Khan met Kirk's gaze steadily, his arm around Molly, her hand held so trustingly in his as he continued to marvel over the strange working of fate. He'd awoken in this century a prisoner, forced under the thumb of a lesser man, and now…now his future held more promise than he'd ever dared dream. Who knew that the petite woman nestled against him would be a match for him, that she could take in all the hurt and rage that had lodged itself deep within his soul, and turn into something with the potential to become a force for good? He'd long ago given up on himself, on becoming a person worthy of love – and truth be told, he'd convinced himself that wasn't who he _wanted_ to be, either.

And then he'd heard her name, saw her face, shared a kiss…and he knew what a liar he'd been. Lying to himself all this time, because the truth that he couldn't bear to face was the truth that he'd been afraid. Afraid that he'd missed his chance to find his soul mate when he'd entered cryofreeze. Afraid that he'd left the one woman who would ever truly know him behind on an Earth that was becoming increasingly politically destabilized.

Leaving her die while he slept his way to a different future, on a different world. Leaving her behind as he'd left his troubles and enemies behind.

If only he'd known he wasn't abandoning his soul mate, that he was instead racing toward her, how differently he would have handled things upon being awoken by Marcus' scientists. It was a supreme irony that he'd found Molly, had shared that incredible moment, only to know that she would inevitably be torn from him. He'd committed murder, heinous crimes in his grief and rage, and would have to face punishment for those actions. But at least they'd had this one moment together – and possibly several more, if Kirk would allow it before returning him to Earth to stand trial.

If, of course, they survived the inevitable encounter with either the Klingons or Admiral Marcus. He resolved to surrender himself to either foe if they would guarantee the safety of the others. Not simply Molly; she would never accept that, and he refused to go into the darkness of death knowing his soul mate's pure, shining soul had been tainted by hatred for him. She'd already forgiven him so much, but if he saved her at the cost of her shipmates and friends – especially her cousin – that she would never forgive.

"The Klingons will be coming for us, Captain," he said, addressing the man who was 'Cousin Jimmy' in Molly's mind. "And Marcus as well. Did your man find anything at the coordinates I gave you?"

Kirk nodded. "Yes. A starship, bigger than anything anyone's ever seen before. Built in secret between Jupiter's moons. And I presume this ship is how you expect Marcus to come for us?" There was challenge in his voice, and carefully controlled anger; the man still hated him, Khan could tell, for the death of his friend and mentor. But he was concealing it well, no doubt for his cousin's sake. Fine; if Khan understood anything, it was hatred. Especially a well-deserved hatred.

And nothing he did now was in the service of earning forgiveness, but solely to prove to both himself and to Molly that he could, indeed change. He spoke, freely giving Kirk all the information he would need to take down the _Vengeance_ when it inevitably arrived, where the secret encrypted information could be found back on Earth regarding Marcus' plans for war, everything he'd learned about Section 31 and its many covert agents. He could see the Vulcan, Spock, taking it all in, speaking in a murmur into a data PADD and no doubt initiating a corroborating search algorithm; good, the sooner he was believed, the safer they would all be.

The safer Molly would be, he silently corrected himself as he ran his fingers lightly over the place on her forearm bearing his name. She remained by his side the entire time he spoke, silently offering him her strength and support, wordlessly allowing her cousin to see the trust she now had where once only suspicion and fear had resided.

When he finally fell silent, Kirk spoke. "Okay. We already know we don't have a lot of time. You say the warp engines failed because of sabotage, and that makes sense. As for everything else, your accusations against the Admiral…" He hesitated, glancing at Molly, who raised her chin and gave him a deliberate nod. Confirming her own belief in that particular set of truths. "Everything else is a secondary priority to getting my ship out of Klingon space. Once we're back in Federation space, we can see about the rest."

"I can assist your Chief Engineer in locating the site of the sabotage," Khan offered. "You know I will not act against you or your ship as long as Molly and my crew are on board," he added when Kirk hesitated. "And of course I am willing to be manacled and brought to Engineering under guard."

"And I'll wait here," Molly added, surprising both men, who turned to stare at her. Spock, on the other hand, appeared entirely unsurprised, even nodding his head as if he approved of the offer. "If I'm locked up and under guard, Khan won't be tempted to try and escape with me."

His lips curled in an approving smile; his soul mate was truly as remarkable as his glimpse into her mind had shown her to be. And Kirk could hardly object, since he knew their shared bond had been strengthened by the merging of their minds during their kiss.

"Fine," Kirk bit out after glancing over at his First Officer and receiving an affirmative nod from the Vulcan. He looked back at Molly with a frown, shook his head, then said, "All right, Ensign Hooper. You'll remain here in the brig until Khan has finished assisting Ensign Chekov and the others in repairing our engines."

"Yes sir," Molly replied crisply, but her eyes shone with happiness and gratitude for her cousin's acceptance of the situation…and his belief in her.

Khan considered giving her a farewell kiss, but the glower on Kirk's face made him change his mind; he didn't want to risk the opportunity to save them all from Marcus and the Klingons, and settled instead for a brief hug before reluctantly moving away from Molly's side as the plas-steel barrier was lowered and he was allowed to step free of his cell.


	6. A Destiny Fulfilled

_A/N: Well, here it is, folks, the end of the story. There will be an M-rated one-shot follow up to this (teaser: one of the pair is a virgin!) but after I wrote this chapter I knew it was the last one. Thank you to everyone for following, reading, favoriting and most of all reviewing; it all gives life to us writers but that last one is like champagne in our blood._

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Molly watched as Khan allowed himself to be manacled and led away. He didn't look back but she could feel his confidence, and a sense of affection she knew was entirely meant for her. She smiled to herself as she took a seat on one of the low benches, settling in to wait for whatever happened next.

Less than an hour later the doors to the brig slid open, and Khan was once again escorted inside. She'd felt the slight vibration in the deck that indicated that the engines had come back online, and the surge of triumph through the emotional bond she and Khan now shared, so she'd already known they'd been successful in repairing the damage. She rose to her feet as the guards escorting her soul mate lowered the plas-steel barrier keeping her imprisoned, waiting quietly until instructed to step out. Khan took her place, his arms raised so that the first guard – Cortez, Molly remembered, his name was Lt. David Cortez – could remove the manacles still clamped around his wrists when it happened: the first shocks of phaser blasts against the _Enterprise_ rocked the ship, startling a cry from Molly's lips.

As soon as the attack began, Khan whirled into motion; using his manacles as a weapon, he quickly knocked both Cortez and the other guard – was her name Duvall? – into unconsciousness. Molly cried out again, this time in anger, but there was no time for her to protest as Khan sprang to her side. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding truly regretful. Not only that, but Molly felt his regret through their bond. Then she felt herself being swept up in a transporter beam, and everything went dark.

When she rematerialized, she found herself on the bridge of an unknown vessel; the _Vengeance_, she assumed once she recognized the startled-looking figure seated in the command chair. "Admiral Marcus," she said, trying to keep her voice steady even though she felt entirely off-kilter, hoping that Khan hadn't deliberately sent her into harm's way in spite of their bond. "I think it's only fair to warn you that…"

She fell silent, gaping a bit as the Admiral and the few other crewmen who'd been pointing rather alarming-looking phaser rifles at her were suddenly lit up by the glow transporter beams, vanishing from sight before she could figure out what she was going to say. The Admiral's expression was a mixture of outrage and alarm, and she could only hope that they were going to be deposited into the _Enterprise_ brig rather than deep space. Although she understood her soul mate much better now than she had before their kiss, she still had no idea if his desire for revenge against this man would tempt him back to his more ruthless ways.

And what, exactly, she wondered were his plans for this ship? She suspected his reasons for depositing her here, reasons that were confirmed when Khan himself appeared, minus his manacles. He continued to be a blur of motion, dashing to the forward navigation console, shouting out a string of code, grinning triumphantly when he read the display.

The main viewscreen crackled into life, revealing the livid face of Molly's cousin. "Khan!" he bellowed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Khan paused in his actions to smirk up at the screen. "What I tried to do when my crew and I first left Earth three hundred years ago, Kirk; find a new home where we can live in peace. Now that I have control of this ship – did I mention it can be run by a crew of only a few, or even one? – and my people are safely transported to the cargo deck, we can continue that quest."

Jim's eyes darted over to take in the sight of Molly, who moved to stand next to Khan, and his lips twisted in a snarl. "Beam Ensign Hooper back to the _Enterprise_. Now!"

Khan, who had been in the act of turning away from the screen, looked down at the woman standing by his side. "Molly," he said softly, reaching up to cup her chin in one large hand, "it was an impulse, bringing you over here. That was never part of the plan. And it's your choice, if you wish to remain with your cousin, with Starfleet and the Federation, to face the coming war – and yes, with his actions today, Marcus has virtually guaranteed that war's inception."

"My other choice being to stay on this ship, to go with you? Leave the Federation behind forever?" Molly replied softly, her words a question and statement all at once.

Khan nodded, reaching out to mute the volume on the viewscreen as Kirk began to shout out his protests; this was a private moment between soul mates, with a momentous decision to be made in so short a span of time. Not days, not hours, barely even minutes before Molly had to make the choice she was being offered.

To stay with a man she barely knew – their soul bond aside – who was a murderer, however justified his actions had been in his own mind? An arrogant ruler in exile from another century, genetically altered to be superior to a mere human like herself? Or stay, resume the life she knew, serving Starfleet and a Federation that had grown so complacent that people like Admiral Marcus could easily work in secret to subvert everything those august organizations stood for?

She gazed up at Khan's eyes, then turned to face the viewscreen, reaching out to toggle the switch that would allow her to speak to her cousin. "I'm sorry, Jimmy," she said, wrapping one arm around Khan's waist and resting her hand on his chest. She felt the warmth of his arm encircling her, holding her close by his side as she said her farewells to the life she'd been born into. "Khan is my soul mate, and I've looked into his heart."

"He's a murderer," Jimmy shouted. Molly saw Commander Spock standing by her cousin's side, his face grave, but somehow thoughtful at the same time. He'd seen into her mind, just as she'd seen into Khan's; she wondered if he recognized from that temporary bond the depth of her resolve. "Khan, you need to stand down your weapons, lower your shields, and surrender yourself to us. Considering the Admiral's coercion of you, I'm sure a case can be made…"

"When everyone judging me will believe as you do, that I'm a murderer and worse?" Khan said, cutting him with a bitter laugh. "No, Kirk, I refuse to subject either myself or any of my family to the hypocrisy of your Federation a minute longer. Your engines will resume power shortly," he added, and Molly realized with a start that, although he'd helped fix the Admiral's sabotage, apparently he'd performed some of his own as well. "You'll be able to limp back home, but following me – us," he corrected himself, giving Molly a fond smile, "will be impossible. I suggest you save your energy for interrogating the prisoners I've deposited in your brig. Oh, and Kirk, don't bother following us. This ship," he patted the console fondly, "is built to outrun and outgun anything you'd care to send after us. And I think you'll find yourself a bit too busy with your upcoming war to find time chasing after a pointless vendetta."

Spock leaned close to Jimmy and whispered something in his ear that the mics weren't designed to pick up. Her cousin glared at his second-in-command, then turned sullenly to face them again. "Molly," he said, his voice pleading, taut with restrained emotion, "please don't do this. You don't need to be with your soul mate even after bonding, you know it's been proven you can live a perfectly healthy life without being in close proximity…"

"I've made my choice, Captain Kirk," Molly said, making the conscious choice to return to formality. To leave him behind would hurt, so very much, but she knew in her heart that to leave Khan would eventually kill her. Not because of the lack of proximity, but because she would spend the rest of her life regretting that decision. "Good-bye. Tell Sam and Aunt Winona I love them." She looked at Commander Spock. "Commander, I hereby tender my resignation as a serving member of Starfleet," she said formally. "Please note it in your logs, that I do so freely and while under no duress."

"So noted," the half-Vulcan replied, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "Live long and prosper, Miss Hooper."

"Thank you," she said, and then Khan cut communications, just as Jimmy began to utter another futile protest. Molly watched in silence as Khan punched in the coordinates for their unknown destination, stepping aside so as not to hinder his rapid movements as he flitted from console to console. When she felt the warp engines hum into life, she knew that the irrevocable moment had come; she'd chosen a life in exile with this man, and now would face the consequences of that decision, for good or ill.

"For better, for worse," she murmured to herself, but of course Khan's superior hearing picked up every word. He strode to her side after issuing one last command to the main computer, taking her hands gently in his.

"From this forward, till death do us part," he said, then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"Till death," Molly agreed softly as the kiss ended. "But until then, I imagine we'll have a helluva life."

His answering laughter was a welcome sound as they sped into the darkness between the stars.


End file.
